Chase The Moon Like Fire
by starsfromthenight
Summary: What is it like to win your first WWE World Heavyweight Championship? Dean Ambrose kindly explains. One-shot.


I look around me.

I hear noise.

Lots of noise.

It drowns in my ears then dissipates like a cloud of thin smoke, like fire.

My cheeks flush with its familiar warmth.

My whole body tingles lightly. I feel a fast current go through me, like lightning coursing through my veins.

Nothing but energy and adrenaline is in me.

And I love it.

Every moment of it.

I stand in the middle of the ring, my home. My place of solace and serenity. My place of complete focus and connection.

Weird cause I get hurt in it. Bad.

Yea, I am one of the few individuals who can say has fallen from a ladder. One of the few who has felt their bones crush. One of the many who attempts to hurt people for a living.

I have seen and felt everything there is to see in this sport. Or so I think.

This has been my place for so long, everything and anything i've ever known.

Now it all manifests in me like a painting, a majestic drawing of…

Dots.

All I see are small, peculiar dots of color, each one with their unique noise, their unique reaction.

Reaction to what?

Oh yea.

To me.

I won. I won something.

Yea… yea yea yea.

Something that now feels heavy in my hand but that I didn't feel before, when my whole body went numb.

I look down and my eyes are stunned by what appears to be a light. A gold flicker of something.

It's- It's a title. It looks like the WWE World Heavyweight title. I think I won it.

No, I did… I did win it.

I am the cham-

Holy shit.

The place is one single loud roar and I am momentarily shocked by the grandiosity of it all. There are smiling faces in the crowd, upset ones too, and pokerface-looking ones. Most of them look happy though so I guess that's alright, it's almost too bright to see.

There are signs within them too, they all say my name.

Dean.

Dean Ambrose.

Yea, that's me.

The NEW WWE World Heavyweight Champion Dean Ambrose. Huh, that doesn't sound too bad.

I take the title between my hands. I stare at it.

Wow.  
I guess this is what it feels like to be THE guy; at least that's what Roman always says.

Roman.

Where is he? He was in this match wasn't he? Yea, yea he was.

Memory loss. That's what titles do to ya I guess.

I look around me, searching for my brother.

Brother. Not by blood sure. I feel as if blood is but a mere component when it comes to us. What bonds me and Roman together is much deeper, much stronger than that.

I have to celebrate with him. I gotta go hug him, pick him off the ground at least. He's probably hurting. I know I would be if I lost my title, even to a brother. Knowing the gentle fucker though he's probably ecstatic. Proud of me. As I know I would be of him.

Amongst the crowd he is nowhere to be found. I try get off the ring to try and find him from the broken pieces of barricade.

Then I forget.

I forget all about my Shield teammate the moment I step on the announcer desk. Hey, at least it serves a purpose right. Now people can snap a better picture.

My head starts to turn and I feel dizzy as hell. Weird. I have never in my life felt dizzy when doing my job.

Then it hits me that this moment isn't my job. Having this in my hands, holding it, exhibiting it like some sort of trophy. It isn't a job. Celebrating like this, feeling like this; it's me, it's all me. I wouldn't mind not getting paid just for tonight, maybe even tomorrow, or at least until I come back from this high.

My tired eyes then catch a familiar glimpse.

I lock eyes with my girlfriend sitting on the far side of the stadium. For a brief second her face is the only one I see in a room loaded with them. She appears to be crying, tears of joy rolling down her cheeks all while her hands make claps in ovation.

I smile back and wave quietly. She waves back and smiles even brighter. She's happy for me. That makes me happier.

I mouth an 'I love you beautiful'. She mouths one back.

I continue on with my celebration. Trying my best to carve in me what this feels like, what it tastes like, what it smells like, what it looks like. I want to remember it all detail for detail later, once my victory hangover kicks in.

Or Coors Light hangover, maybe both.

I want it to save me from the dark times, pull me out of my late-night insomnia. I want it to be my friend, my ally, my intoxicating thought. I want nothing but this, all of this until I die.

Because I am the motherfucking champion.

Wow it feels great just saying it.

Then I realize my time is coming to a close.

Yea this is a tv show. We gotta keep with the standards.

So with final waves and smiles and high fives, I walk out.

I gotta look for Roman and even my younger not-by-blood brother Seth and thank them for this. Yea, I guess I am old school like that.

But also, who knows where i'd be had The Shield not happened when it did. Maybe dead somewhere? Nah, too dramatic. Most likely scenario just covered in dried-up wrestler blood trying to fight my way out of Ohio. Working two jobs because I am too poor to keep up with my love of beer and good music.

Yea, maybe.

Let's just be glad that's not what happened and I turned out to be the luckiest fucker in the world.

Dean Ambrose. That's what I became.

Yea, life is good.


End file.
